


The Shield is Mightier than the Sword

by Nitrobot



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AOU, Awkward Steve, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heavy Petting, Humor, Resolved Sexual Tension, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha ends up being the last one to make fun of Steve for his so called aversion to cursing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone seemed to naturally migrate to their rooms in Clint's hideaway haven from the big bad psycho robot- Bruce bagged the largest, to accommodate for both of him, Tony took the room closest to the kitchen for illicit snacking and Natasha...

Well, Steve actually wasn't quite sure where she was staying. All he knew was that it was way too far away from his own room. If there was a sudden midnight invasion of living metal, he knew he'd want her close by. After all, they did survive a global manhunt together.

In the kitchen, he was mostly only half listening to everyone's attempts at formulating a plan- even with Director Fury's return (not that he didn't see it coming a mile away), their chances at defeating Ultron were nothing but bleak. It wasn't like their first battle, the one that tied them all together with iron cords. Loki may have been a god, but at least he had bones to break (and a pissed off brother). Ultron was pure iron, a steel core stabbed through the Earth and slipping up right through its cracks.

It was almost enough to put him off dinner, but Mrs Barton (something he was still getting used to, the whole 'Hawkeye actually managed to get a wife' thing) managed to tempt him with some hot chocolate. He was about halfway through his mug when Director Fury came through the back door and made him splutter on his drink. Just because he was playing dead didn't mean he could show up out of nowhere while the whole world was in chaos-

Wait, no. It was Director Fury. Of course he could do that.

Steve couldn't tell if Natasha was listening much to Fury's speech for the ages, arms crossed in a vice over her chest and leaning back. Her chair was only kept off the verge of falling over from her sheer willpower. She hadn't kept much respect for SHIELD after she had to deal with all its fallout, and even Steve found it hard to trust Fury much when he had HYDRA agents on his own payroll. And after months of living in a pretend grave, the director's grand plan amounted to...

"Outwit the platinum bastard." 

Natasha flicked a mischievous gaze over to Steve as he stood in the doorway. "Steve doesn't like that kind of talk," she said over the threat of laughter rising in her voice. So she _had_ been listening. 

"Y'know what, Romanov?" Whatever Steve might have used to defend his honour with was confined to his own conscience as the discussion sharply turned back to the serious yet very poorly paying business of saving the world. Yet he still kept a warning glare on Natasha the whole time, even if she didn't notice (or did a very good job of just ignoring him). The jokes were hardly new, but they did make him constantly have to have comebacks at the ready when he could have been thinking of more important things, like... well, like how to wrench them all out of Tony's mess. And maybe secretly remembering that one kiss Natasha forced on him. Just because he didn't expect it didn't mean he couldn't end up enjoying it...

After the most depressing pep talk of all time came mandatory superhero curfew (or in Clint's words, "You don't have to go to bed but stay outta my kitchen", and in Tony's words, "yet another rule for me to ignore, oh goody"). With all the rooms occupied and no-one willing to give one up, Fury was shoved onto the couch for the night. And once again, Steve was stranded in the hallway waiting for Tony to finish with the only bathroom available to both of them.

"Careful, Rogers, you might start gathering dust out here," Natasha quipped as she walked past, and Steve had to first recover from seeing her in very out-of-place pink pajamas before he could get back at her. As a result she was already at the end of the hall when he called back;

"Is making fun of a senior citizen how you get your shits and giggles, Natasha?" She paused, just as he'd hoped, as if electrocuted by hearing a curse from the team boy scout's soap-clean mouth. She turned around slowly, looking as if only just noticing he was there.

"It passes the time..." she answered carefully, hands going astride her hips. "And it's a lot easier than finding some asses to kick."

Steve walked closer and felt himself smile, if only because a part of him was itching to properly challenge her. "Well, maybe you should be a little nicer to your elders," he suggested. Natasha mirrored his expression and walk, staring up at him the whole time until they were just one step away from colliding with each other. She wasn't wearing perfume, but there was definitely something tickling his nostrils, like a forest after rainfall. From his lofty viewpoint, it took all his willpower to keep his gaze on her eyes even though she seemed to be daring them to drift lower. 

"And what if I'm not?" Since they were so close, she saw no need to raise her voice any louder than a whisper. "What're you gonna do, old man Rogers? Spank me?"

The suggestion was enough to make Steve blush furiously, but pride demanded that he ignore the heat boiling in his cheeks. He exhaled deeply, and he didn't realise how deep his voice went until he heard it practically growling, "If that's an invitation to..." 

He saw her eyes widen, pupils dilating and spilling into the icy whites surrounding them. In truth, he was more surprised than her at himself, but it was the first thing on his mind that made it to his mouth. Though considering he was the one thinking of it, it shouldn't have shocked him that much.

And even Natasha was gathering herself now, red curls framing red lips that spread into something much less innocent than a smirk. Steve was concentrating on their staring contest so intently, he almost didn't notice she was... he didn't want to call it moaning, but that was all he could describe the gentle thrumming of her vocal cords as. It was all that broke through the strained silence for a few sultry seconds, until Natasha decided to chip away at the cracks.

"I think I'll go to bed early," she said, still maintaining that sultry whisper and anchoring his gaze as she swayed to the head of the stairs. "If you _really_ want to convince me that you're not such a boy scout after all, you know where my room is."

"Uh... I don't, actually," Steve admitted, losing just about every hard-earned note of seduction in less than five words. Natasha paused at the top set of stairs just to roll her eyes at him.

"First floor, between the living room and second bathroom," she revealed at last, though again it took Steve some seconds to absorb the new information with eyebrows rising all by themselves.

"There's a _second_ bathroom?" he repeated.

"Yeah, turns out you didn't need to share with Tony after all," she called up. Steve blinked, looking back at the locked bathroom door that was all that stood between the house and shower-muffled but still butchered AC/DC renditions, from someone who thought an arc reactor stopped him from being tone deaf.

"Son of a bitch..."


	2. Chapter 2

Even if he finally knew where her room was, Steve's endeavor to reach it undetected was doomed from the start.

"I knew there was something goin' on between the two of you," Fury said from somewhere within the blanket fortress he'd made out of the couch, and though his face was hidden Steve could hear the smile in his incriminating mutter. 

No matter his curiosity about what 'something' meant to Fury, he wasn't about to get drawn into a relationship debate in the middle of someone else's living room, especially with Natasha already waiting for him. "Sir, since you're technically not my boss anymore, can I tell you to shut up?"

Rather than be struck by divine lightening, like Tony always insisted would happen should anyone dare to sass the Mighty Director, all Steve got was a muffled laugh from Fury. "I'll give you that one for free, Cap, but only cause this is the softest damn couch I've ever commandeered."

Steve sighed, wondering why the one time he decided to have a love life had to be while sharing a house with every wall having its own pair of ears. Still, maybe this would just be a one time thing. Maybe he was just curious about Natasha; grabbing hold of the one chance he'd have to see her vulnerable, if it was even possible for her to be. And maybe she just wanted to grind him under her thumb.

It was always hard to tell where she was concerned. The only thing he was certain of was extreme uncertainty. With that thought piled onto the already towering list of things he didn't have to worry about sixty years ago, he finally made for the door that blended in suspiciously well with the wall, and that he was more or less sure would have Natasha waiting to ambush him behind it.

"Though if you want to keep this visit a secret, you better keep it way the hell down in there," Fury called out as Steve reached for the doorknob.

"Noted, sir." The door clicking open muffled the laugh that knew too much going on behind him, but after letting his eyes adjust to the dim light all Steve could hear was his own breath catching like a butterfly trying to fly out his stomach.

"I was wondering when you'd show up, Captain." The pajamas had disappeared, leaving behind swathes of creamy bare skin over toned curves that begged to be admired. A life spent in the service of cold governments had left her with a patchwork of scars; most notable the one on her stomach, the old souvenir from Bucky, and he felt his fingers twitch as his eyes tracked over the ragged lines. And though the bed was modest like everyone's, she made it seem like a throne.

Just looking at Natasha made Steve, in his ragged track legs getting smaller by the second and a plain shirt that was already some sizes too small, feel overdressed. And he only noticed she was waiting for an answer when he managed to stop staring at the tiny pout her lips made.

"Your personal guard kept me behind," he said after finally getting his lungs working again, though still having to navigate his voice around a strange lump lodged in his throat. Her face, set like effortlessly painted marble, budged only to show one of her eyebrows arching.

"You'll take on an entire criminal organisation single-handedly, but getting caught by another old man makes you want to bolt?" she asked.

Then Steve remembered what had brought him to her in the first place. His nostrils flared, and his senses flooded with a spiciness starting to permeate the air. "You gonna spend the whole evening talking or will I have to fuck you quiet?" Even with a time gap of six decades, some curses never lost their impact, and he let himself smile past a burning tongue when her perfect stone face started to break apart from surprise. Though she hurried to fill in the cracks with a smile of pearls, Steve had already seen the damage he caused. "It's gonna take a lot more than that to impress me..." She glided to her feet, baring herself completely to him even as she approached him like a predator. 

Steve knew intimately just how dangerous she could be, yet all he could think of was feeling the proof of it for himself; those coiled and hard-earned muscles with scattered scars that would form tiny hills under his fingertips. "How about we pick up where we left off?" he suggested, letting his arms lift just enough for her to slide his shirt up and off his tight chest. His pectorals swelled as he exhaled, sweat dappling his skin while Natasha's remained frustratingly flawless, though she took some time to admire the results of super soldier serum. 

"With your terrible kissing skills?" she whispered, eventually dragging her eyes back up to his. 

"Exactly." His lips more crashed than pressed into hers, but she didn't seem to mind. Red curls wreathed and spilled between his fingers while his other hand tipped her head up. She traced her touch all over his body, slipping agile strokes against slick skin while he focused on coaxing his tongue around hers, and trying to push aside the pressure building in his groin. Though his ears were overflowing with his own thrumming and familiar moans, he was convinced the reluctant almost-whimpers against his lips were from her. 

With everything a dull blurr around him, Steve let his eyes close and trusted Natasha to lead him towards the bed, almost stumbling as he fell on top of her and pinned her to the sinking mattress. Her skin was chill and seemed to melt against the heat of his, but if anything she seemed to welcome it and writhe even closer to his body. Still keeping his lips snared, she trailed teasing fingertips down his rolling abs, dipping under the band of his pants before sliding right in and skimming her palm against his aching cock. The jolt of pleasure was so unexpected that Steve's mouth slid off of Natasha's lips, and he had to unsuccessfully stifle his moan against her collarbone.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin, Steve," Natasha teased, taking a firmer hold and squeezing more moans out of him. He wasn't, but with his last sexual experience taking place in the previous century, he might as well have been.

"You've been talking a lot of shit tonight, Natasha..." The threat wasn't as effective when it had to hiss through clenched teeth, but the pleasure building to a distant breaking point in his cock had all but paralysed him. He wanted to do the same to her; curl his fingers inside her core and lap up her moans, but his heavy arms wouldn't obey. Natasha seemed to have some mercy left in her though; her hand eventually pulled away from his throbbing crotch while the other forced his head back up.

"Then get on with fucking it out of me, already," she said, as if he needed any more encouragement. The weight of arousal still stayed unsated in his cock, but at least now he could work on giving her the exact same burden. With his pants pushed down to his knees, he dragged his lips back to hers and let them hover over them as he curved over her tense stomach, cupping between her thighs and letting them spread before stretching his index past wet and waiting folds.

She sucked in the air around his lips, and he even felt her insides clench and pull him in deeper. As he pushed further in, his thumb found her clit and started to nudge its pad against it. Only when she finally released a sound did he give in to rubbing against the aching bundle of nerves. It was a steady rhythm that sent her breasts heaving against his pecs and had a musky wetness coating his fingers. When she did allow herself to moan it was a deliciously long sound, as if stretching along her vocal cords, and his crotch flared with pleasure even more. 

So consumed by delayed lust and a high of arousal, Steve almost forgot the most important concern of getting laid- at least back in his time. "Do you have a -?"

"You don't need one," Natasha interrupted, with a jarringly sharp clarity drawing contrast with the deliberate breathlessness of her voice before. "Just trust me."

Steve knew better than to dig deeper, and his impatient erection wouldn't let him anyway. "Alright, then..."

He slowly pulled his damp fingers out, along with a line of fluid from her pussy, and gave her swollen clit one last flick before lining his cock up. Without further delay, he thrust forwards.

"Ah, fuck-!" Before he knew it he'd woke the entire house up, or at least he must have from how loud the curse came out before he could squash it down. 

"Easy, boy scout." Natasha laughed past an undercurrent of gasps, watching Steve lose himself inside her even as she was slowly falling apart as well. He hilted, coming to a panting pause and trembling over her from the overwhelming desire flooding his nerves. The rush of his own blood roared around his head, though most of it was circulating further down in the warm grip of her pussy. 

For the second time that night he almost forgot something; namely to pull back and keep up the stream of words between them. It was all that would stop him from ending it too early. "The low lights are a nice touch... by the way," he managed to grunt out. 

She laughed again, a sound from the back of her throat that tickled his lips. "Sorry I couldn't find any cheesy music to have playing," she said.

Finally his body calmed down, adjusted to the sheer amount of input tingling inside it, and he made his hips retreat from hers. "That's alright. I wouldn't want anything louder than you begging, anyway."

She only had time for another skeptical twitch of her eyebrows before he showed her what all the empty years had left him waiting for.


End file.
